


follow the marks you left

by carissima



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, I'm so sorry Harry, M/M, X-Factor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 22:39:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4763645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carissima/pseuds/carissima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick looks up at him in surprise before he settles more comfortably in his chair, letting his pen bounce off the paper he’s been writing on a few times before he grins at Louis. “Hello Louis Tomlinson, fancy seeing you here.”</p><p>“It’s my second home, innit?” Louis says easily. He’s not even sure it’s a lie.</p><p>“Well it’s certainly becoming mine this year,” Nick says with a roll of his eyes. “Are you here to help Simon then? Should I be fraternising with the enemy?”</p><p>The phrasing makes Louis pause, and he idly kicks off his Vans, leaving them sprawled under the desk. “I could go, if you like,” he says, completely insincerely as he leans back in the chair and crosses his arms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	follow the marks you left

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bearhead1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bearhead1/gifts).



> i'm sorry this is so short, if it wasn't a pinch hit then it would have been a 20k extravaganza of louis agonising over nick and harry's relationship and pushing nick away, so you know, just imagine that actually happens somewhere in the middle alright?!
> 
> the prompt asked for louis to still be bitter about harry dropping him for nick (or so louis thinks anyway), and now nick is experiencing it, having been dropped for jeff etc, this fic in no way reflects how i feel about harry or what his relationship may or may not be with his bandmate and favourite radio 1 dj. 
> 
> as a result of the prompt, you may not want to read this if conversations about harry's behaviour being destructive or selfish upset you.
> 
> huge thank you to ani for the super quick and excellent beta, all mistakes are therefore mine and mine alone.

Louis always feels nervous when he walks into the X Factor studio. There’s something about the lights and the stage and the judge’s chairs that sends him right back to being eighteen again, standing in front of Simon and the others, wondering why he wasn’t good enough for his own solo, wondering why he was in this band at all. Even now at 23 – almost 24 – he can’t quite shake that stupid insecure feeling.

But he’s really good at faking it – always has been – so he strolls into the studio, waving at some old faces he recognises and nodding politely at the ones he doesn’t, and pushes through the doors into the studio. He’s a bit early so instead of finding Simon in his chair, Nick’s sitting in his, scribbling something on a bit of paper. The stage is empty and there’s only a few people milling around, so Nick’s acts must have finished but there’s no sign of Simon yet. It’s hardly a surprise, since Simon has been late to every meeting Louis’ ever had with him, but still.

“Alright?” Louis says, walking towards the table where Nick is and flopping down into Cheryl’s chair – or is it Rita’s? he hasn’t been watching as many shows as he should have been with their touring schedule only letting up last week. He’s not particularly fond of Nick, but he can be civil when he needs to be.

Nick looks up at him in surprise before he settles more comfortably in his chair, letting his pen bounce off the paper he’s been writing on a few times before he grins at Louis. “Hello Louis Tomlinson, fancy seeing you here.”

“It’s my second home, innit?” Louis says easily. He’s not even sure it’s a lie.

“Well it’s certainly becoming mine this year,” Nick says with a roll of his eyes. “Are you here to help Simon then? Should I be fraternising with the enemy?”

The phrasing makes Louis pause, and he idly kicks off his Vans, leaving them sprawled under the desk. “I could go, if you like,” he says, completely insincerely as he leans back in the chair and crosses his arms.

“Nah, you’re alright,” Nick says. “Simon’s already seen my acts this week. You could steal my scribbles if you like, but you’d have a hard time reading my chicken scrawl.”

Louis peers across at the ineligible paper Nick’s brandishing at him before he starts to laugh. “Nah, you’re alright mate. I’d rather win fair and square anyway.”

Nick gives him a considering look. “Well, I can’t argue with that,” he says quietly. “Harry always said you were the most competitive.”

Louis can’t help the way his shoulders stiffen just a little at the casual reference to the friendship that all but destroyed his own with Harry. But he pastes on a smile and rolls his shoulders as casually as he can manage when he’s sitting in a studio that holds a ridiculous amount of memories of how young and stupid he used to be. “Like Harry can talk. He’s the most competitive, sneaky fucker I’ve ever met.”

Nick laughs with the ease of someone who knows exactly what Louis’ talking about. “And how is he then? I haven’t heard from him in a bit, except the most random texts in the middle of the night when he knows I’m sleeping. Tell him I know he does it on purpose, by the way.”

“I thought you spoke to him five times a day,” Louis says, surprised. “And he’s fine, I suppose. His hair is longer. He’s even weirder about organic food. And his obsession with American Football is completely out of control. It’s like he’s completely forgotten that he’s from fucking _Cheshire_ , not Wisconsin, or wherever the fuck that team is from.”

Nick laughs, but the pen tapping has increased and he’s avoiding Louis’ gaze. “Sounds about right.”

“You know,” Louis says, deliberately keeping his voice light, “I’m around all this week, since tour finished. If you want some decent advice from an actual singer, I could come by when your acts are practising and help you out. If you want.”

Nick looks up at that, his head tilted a little as he stares at Louis quizzically. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, you probably need all the help you can get, right?”

“Yeah, I do actually,” Nick says honestly. “As long as Simon’s not going to kill me for stealing his protégé.”

Louis rolls his eyes at that, even as a warmth spreads through his chest at the acknowledgement. Not that he’d ever admit it. “What time tomorrow then?”

“Eleven? They schedule my stage time with my show so I come straight here from the studio.”

Louis winces a little at the time – he rarely sees anything much before midday – but he nods anyway. “I guess I’ll see you here then.”

“Yeah,” Nick says, gathering his papers and phone and a bunch of other shit he’s spread over the table together before he gets to his feet. “Thanks, Louis. I appreciate it.”

“Wait until you hear my advice,” Louis warns him. “I’ll probably hate everything you’ve done.”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” Nick says with a self-deprecating laugh that makes Louis frown just a little. “See you tomorrow, popstar.”

Louis watches Nick sweep out of the room before he turns back to stare at the empty stage. It looks bigger when it’s empty, he thinks idly. It’s hard to believe the five of them once filled that space so easily, or how quickly they all folded together when it came time to be judged.

It feels like a million years ago.

*

He turns up at 11.04 am with a can of Red Bull in one hand, a bacon sarnie that he’d snagged from the cafeteria in the other, his hair artfully covered with a beanie and wearing the most comfortable clothes he owns; namely a pair of soft grey joggers and an old, faded t-shirt that smells like his mum’s favourite detergent.

Nick’s already in his seat, watching the first lad singing in the middle of the stage, leaning forward in his chair and as still as Louis’ ever seen him. It’s a bit disconcerting, but Louis makes his way over to Cheryl/Rita’s seat and flops down next to him, swallowing a bite of his sandwich and grunting out a greeting. Nick barely nods at him as he keeps his attention on his act, and Louis can admire that kind of dedication. He’d be exactly the same if it was him.

He’s finished his sandwich by the time the lad finishes, and he listens intently to the advice Nick gives him.

“Hey, you know Louis Tomlinson right?” Nick says, gesturing to where Louis’ swigging the rest of his Red Bull. He manages a wave but he doesn’t lower the can until he’s finished.

“Nice to meet you mate,” Louis says, offering his hand to the star struck kid. “Sounded good up there.”

“But?” Nick prompts, and Louis wonders if his thoughts are written all over his face.

“Well, it’s lacking a bit of stage presence,” Louis says because he’s nothing if not honest. “I’m all for the Ed Sheeran standing-in-the-middle-of-the-stage-with-a-guitar thing, but you still have to engage the audience, yeah? Otherwise they’ll never bother to vote for you.”

“He’s concerned about being too cheesy,” Nick says, looking thoughtful. “So how do we do that while avoiding the whole George Michael/Stevi Ritchie cheese fest?”

“Hey, Stevi owned it last year,” Louis mutters. “Alright, so what about just a bit of movement on stage. Like, he doesn’t have to just stand in one place, right? He can move around if you give him a headset rather than a mic stand. Just give him a little more freedom to take in the audience and feed off them.”

Nick gives him a considering look before he turns back to his act. “Sounds good to me, what do you think?”

Louis settles back in his chair and lets Nick go back and forth with his act. He likes the way Nick listens, not only to the kid he’s mentoring but Louis as well, like he has some kind of authority here rather than being the lucky kid who fell well and truly on his feet with his bandmates and has made a career out of messing around, writing songs and annoying interviewers. He’s spent the last month having water fights with Liam on stage, for Christ’s sake, and not a single person told them to cut it out and behave like professionals.

And it happens again with Nick’s next act. Nick gives his opinion before he asks for Louis’. And he really listens.

It’s kind of incredible, really.

“Thanks for your help,” Nick says to him when the last act leaves, and it’s just them and a few sound technicians milling around the room. “I’m a bit crap at the whole staging thing.”

“Nah, you’re doing fine,” Louis says, surprising himself with the sincerity in his own voice. “Just coming from a different perspective, that’s all. I’m used to being up there, while you’re used to being down here. Or on the other side of the telly.”

Nick grabs his things and shoves them into his bag haphazardly. “So I’m pretty starved, since I came straight here from the studio. Do you fancy grabbing lunch or something?”

“Oh,” Louis says, startled enough to freeze where he is. “Oh. Um, thanks but I told my mum I’d take her and the twins out for lunch since they’re in town today. She gets kind of clingy when I get back from tour.”

“Yeah, no worries,” Nick says with an easy smile. “Most of my mates are professional slackers. I’m sure one of them fancies grabbing lunch.”

Louis nods, feeling a bit awkward as Nick walks him out of the studio. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around,” Louis says when they pause in the car park. “Good luck on Saturday’s show.”

“Won’t need luck,” Nick tells him cheerfully. “I’ve got a legitimate professional singer helping me after all. See you around, popstar.”

“Yeah, see you,” Louis murmurs, shoving his hands in his pockets as he watches Nick cross the car park and slide into his car. He’s still standing there when Nick drives past with his hand raised. Louis lifts his own, waiting for Nick’s car to disappear into the traffic before he heads for his own car, lost in his thoughts.

*

He’s sitting at home surrounded by takeaway pizza, a few bottles of Corona lying on the coffee table, and he’s watching the results show. All three of Nick’s acts go through, and Louis grins at the relief on Nick’s face as his last act gets called out.

Cheryl loses an act this week, and Louis’ not surprised because the group was pretty weak compared to the rest of the acts.

He’s just throwing the pizza box away when his phone vibrates. Louis picks it up, frowning at the unknown number. The text just says Thanks x but he knows who it is. He saves the number under Nick’s name, replies with a simple You’re welcome! and heads back to the sofa, his phone gripped in his hand, to flick through the channels to find something else to watch.

*

It becomes a bit of a thing. Nick texts him randomly, sometimes in the morning when he’s doing his show and something funny happens, or when he’s in rehearsal and he either needs a bit of advice or to vent his frustration because something isn’t working the way Nick wants it to. Louis texts Nick whenever he hears Nick make a fool of himself on his show – because apparently getting up at 6.30 am is a thing Louis does now – or he hears a song and wants Nick’s opinion. He and Nick differ in their musical tastes quite a bit, but he likes arguing with Nick because he doesn’t just give in to Louis like the boys do, or argue for the sake of it like Lottie does because she’s his younger sister and that’s what she’s always done.

It’s not until he’s back in Doncaster visiting his mum and the babies and his phone pings that he realises that it might be a bit of a problem.

“One of the boys, love?” his mum asks him with a raised eyebrow as she feeds Ernest, who seems more interested in shoving his fingers in his food than eating it.

“Uh no,” Louis says, belatedly aware of the stupid grin on his face from the selfie Nick sent him, his panicked face filling Louis’ screen until he thinks he could count Nick’s individual eyelashes if he wanted to.

Not that he does.

“Oh,” Johannah says knowingly, and that makes Louis shove his phone into his pocket, determined to never look at it again while his mum has that look on her face. “A new friend then?”

“Maybe,” Louis says with a shrug before he takes the spoon off his mum and nudges her gently out of the way. Ernest claps happily at him, his dirty hands splattering mashed veg all over the place. “Alright bro, lets show mum how we men eat.”

Messily, as it turns out. But it keeps his mum quiet as she feeds Doris, casting her oldest son curious looks that he steadfastly ignores.

*

He’s back in London for some promo duties when his phone rings at half eight on a Tuesday evening. Nick’s name flashes up on his screen and Louis schools his expression into a frown as he answers.

“Alright?”

“No, actually, thanks for asking Louis Tomlinson,” Nick says, sounding utterly exhausted. “My acts are rebelling against my stellar advice, Simon’s being antsy about the ratings still, Rita won’t stop texting me to remind me that she’s going to beat me if it kills her and did I mention that I’m mentoring a bunch of ungrateful little brats?”

Louis settles back against the sofa and picks up his cup of tea as he gets comfortable. “Don’t tell me you’re cracking under the pressure, Nick. I thought you loved all that shit.”

“I fucking hate pressure,” Nick mutters. “Pressure is the fucking worst.”

“You’re the worst,” Louis counters. Just because.

“Thanks Louis, I really appreciate the pep talk,” Nick says dryly. “I have no idea why I thought you’d be sympathetic.”

“Me neither,” Louis replies honestly. He sips at his tea, mulling over whether this is a genuine breakdown or whether Nick just needs to let off steam. They don’t really know each other that well, but he kind of feels a bit responsible for Nick at the moment, since he’s been through the pressure cooker atmosphere that is the X Factor and Nick has no idea how much worse it’s going to get as they get closer to Christmas and the final show. “If it helps, no one has died of stress while working on the show.”

“Yes, that helps a lot,” Nick monotones sarcastically. “I feel so much better.”

“Alright, you big baby,” Louis says, rolling his eyes because honestly, sometimes Nick is the biggest brat Louis’ ever met.

“Oh c’mon, don’t make me beg,” Nick pleads anyway. “Can you come to rehearsal tomorrow? They’ll listen to you.”

Louis already knows his schedule tomorrow, and it’s not exactly light. “I don’t think I can, mate. But I could probably squeeze in a drink at around, uh, 4 pm?”

“I don’t know why I ever thought you were an obnoxious, ungrateful brat,” Nick says in relief. Louis tries not to bristle at the throwaway comment, because he’s certainly thought – and said – a lot worse about Nick in the past. But there’s still a tiny bit of him that wants to snap back and be that obnoxious brat anyway.

“Well if you’ve quite finished,” Louis says archly, “then text me where you want to meet. And don’t make it one of those poncey places you always hang out in.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Nick promises, with an unsurprising lack of sincerity in his voice. “Thanks, Louis.”

“Don’t mention it,” Louis tells him. And he means it. “See you tomorrow, yeah? Hope rehearsals go a bit better. Oh, and don’t screw up your show.”

“I don’t know how I ever got through a single day before without you,” Nick sighs loudly. “Well, I’ll try my best. Goodnight, popstar.”

“Goodnight, Nick,” Louis echoes before he drops his phone onto the sofa besides his feet where they’re curled up almost underneath him and slurps the rest of his tea while a re-run of last week’s X Factor blares in the background.

*

As usual, Louis is running late. The tiny little café Nick suggested is halfway across bloody town, so it isn’t really his fault if he is. By the time he walks in, Nick’s already nursing a half-drunk cup of coffee and he’s playing on his phone.

“Sorry,” Louis says, sliding into the seat opposite and letting his shoulders relax. “Interview from fucking hell. Thought it would never bloody end.”

“It’s a hard life you live,” Nick says dryly. Louis can’t even be bothered to get annoyed though because Nick does actually know how annoyingly draining interviews can be, so he lets it slide. “They drilling you about the break?”

“Kind of,” Louis says with a shrug. The waitress appears and he orders a cup of tea, ignoring Nick when he rolls his eyes. “They kept directing all the questions to Harry, so I spent most of it ignoring the interviewer and trying to break Liam.”

“Sounds like a fun way to spend an afternoon.” Nick’s voice has changed, lowered slightly and sounding a bit cagey.

He knows it’s the mention of Harry, who he assumes still hasn’t called Nick even though he’s been in the country for two weeks now. “It’s not really Harry’s fault people gravitate to him, even in interviews, you know. He’s like, well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Nick says quietly. He’s staring into his coffee and tapping his thumb on the handle idly. “I guess you do too.”

“It gets a bit easier when you see it happening over and over again,” Louis admits. He kicks Nick’s ankle under the table. “You feel a bit less of a wanker for falling for it yourself.”

“He does still text me now and again,” Nick says. He traps Louis’ foot between his, smiling a little when Louis grimaces at him. “It’s not like he’s fallen off the face of the planet or anything. It’s just-“

“Just not like it used to be,” Louis finishes for him. “It took me a while to realise that it’s just something Harry does. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“Maybe,” Nick says easily. But his shoulders are still hunched and Louis wants to reach out and tell Nick that it’s not his fault, that there’s nothing wrong with him. “I just. Like, we used to talk a lot. He’d come over and we’d talk for hours about everything and nothing, you know? Like, he’d talk about this book he’d read or someone had suggested he read, or he’d tell me about who he’d met that day, and like, who usually starts a conversation with ‘Oh, so I met Johnny Depp the other day’ you know? Well, except you and the others, I guess.”

Louis grins toothily at him.

“But we also used to talk about you,” Nick continues, lowering his voice and pausing when the waitress returns with Louis’ tea, smiling up at her before she leaves them to it.

Louis’ insides twist around and he has to look away, familiar feelings of hurt and stupid jealousy and anger stirring inside of him from where they’ve been buried so well that he’d almost forgotten all about them. “I used to fucking hate you,” Louis admits, his voice shaking just a little. “I used to hate seeing you in the papers, or hearing interviewers asking about you. I thought you’d stolen my best mate and I used to wonder what was so fucking great about you that Harry could just drop me so easily. I made Zayn throw darts at a picture of your face sometimes. He was a fucking awful shot but it made me feel a bit better, you know?”

“I didn’t steal him,” Nick says quietly.

“I know,” Louis admits for the first time. “I fucking know, alright? But it felt like it all the same. And Christ, you used to talk about me. I fucking knew it. I knew he would.”

“Nothing bad,” Nick tells him, but he releases Louis’ ankle anyway. “He’s never said a bad word about you. Or any of the lads, for that matter. In all honesty, he seemed just as confused as you are about why you two drifted apart.”

Louis thinks that’s pretty unlikely, since he’s been right here the whole time and Harry knows that. But he figures maybe he hasn’t exactly made an effort either, and part of him knows that what he and Harry had wasn’t exactly healthy, not when they lived in each other’s pockets as well. At least with Nick, and Jeff, and now Xander, Harry’s got some breathing room when they go on tour or he goes home to see his mum.

“It must be weird though,” Nick says slowly. He’s watching Louis carefully, and Louis hates the intensity of his gaze but it’s not like he’s not used to it now. “How do you deal with it?”

“Mostly I annoy the fuck out of Liam and Niall,” Louis admits with a sharp grin. “But I mean, it’s not like we don’t talk. We just aren’t close like we used to be. He’s still an annoying, clingy bastard and I’m still an obnoxious, ungrateful brat, but we’re not the same people we used to be anymore and it’s kind of hard to look at Harry and realise he’s not sixteen anymore and looking at me like I have all the fucking answers, you know?”

“But it still hurts a little,” Nick says, and Louis’ not sure if he’s finishing Louis’ thought or talking about himself. Either way, he’s not wrong.

“Maybe a little,” he agrees, sipping at his tea. “Maybe I’m a bit all-or-nothing too though.”

Nick looks thoughtful for a moment before his eyes crinkle and his mouth lifts in his usual wide-mouthed smile. “I’m a bit like that too.”

“Yeah?” Louis hides his smile behind his mug. His mum would be having absolute hysterics if she could see him right now.

“Yeah,” Nick echoes softly, and his sneaker-clad foot nudges against Louis’ under the table.

Louis stares into his mug of tea but he’s definitely smiling. Just a little.

*

Louis’ already halfway through composing some god-awful commiseration text when a message appears from Nick.

this is what happens when you don’t come to rehearsals :(

The show has literally only just gone off air, and Louis knows if he flicks over to ITV2 he’ll see Nick trying to console his act. It’s his first loss, and Louis knows Nick’s probably taken it personally, like it’s his own fault that the kid lost. And if he’s being honest, Louis feels a bit guilty too, wondering if he couldn’t have squeezed a bit of time into his schedule to go to one of the rehearsals this week.

sorry mate he types out before pausing and chewing on his bottom lip. got a free shoulder and plenty of booze if you need someone to cry on though

He’s pressed send before he can second guess himself, and turns over to ITV2 to make sure Nick’s not actually crying, or doing anything else embarrassing that he can tease him about later. But he’s holding it together, even if he doesn’t drop his hand from the shoulder of the boy who actually is crying until they’re excused by Rochelle and they walk off together, heads bent towards each other as Nick probably either commiserates with him or tells him awful jokes, because that’s what Nick does when he’s feeling awkward and terrible.

His phone vibrates almost immediately after the screen switches back to Cheryl and Louis mutes the telly out of solidarity for Nick.

Can’t tonight, I need to go home and get some sleep or the show will be worse than usual tomorrow. I could come over after though? About 12? :’(

It’s the stupid crying face that makes Louis send back a text saying okay, and adding his address because they’re not the kind of mates who have been to each other’s houses yet. Even though they text a million times a day and Louis has about eighty pictures of Pig on his phone somehow and Nick probably has just as many of Ernest and Doris because fuck it, his sister and brother are fucking adorable.

He sends Nick another text wishing him a goodnight and assuring him that he’s not the worst mentor in the world because he saw the American version and Britney wins that one hands down. He gets a text full of laughing and crying emojis, ending with the sleeping emoji and he turns the volume back up on the telly because Simon’s on and Louis likes it when he gets pissy with the callers.

He really does want to be Simon when he grows up one day.

*

Nick knocks on his door at 11.52 am, because he’s a wanker and Louis hates people that turn up early. His hair is still damp because he only woke up half an hour ago since he’s now officially got a week off, and the ensuite is still steamed up from his shower. He flings the door open and scowls at Nick’s cheerful face before he pads towards the kitchen, his bare feet smacking against the hallway flooring as he goes.

“I thought you were meant to be cheering me up,” Nick calls from where he’s toeing off his boots like a good guest in the hallway before following Louis to the kitchen.

Louis grunts as he fills the kettle and gets two mismatched mugs from the cupboard, dropping a teabag in each.

“Well someone got out of bed on the wrong side this morning didn’t they?” Nick teases, easing into Louis’ side and resting his hips against the counter.

Louis glares at him as the kettle boils slowly.

“I hope you’ve got biscuits.” Nick looks around hopefully.

“No biscuits,” Louis mutters.

“So how, exactly, is this meant to be cheering me up from my pit of despair at having ruined some talented kid’s future?” Nick asks. He sounds like he’s teasing but there’s just enough sadness in his voice that Louis pushes himself away from the counter in one fluid movement and cups Nick’s surprised face in his hands to tug him down for a filthy, sloppy kiss.

The thing is, Louis never bothered to learn any other way to kiss, since he’s never wanted to or needed to. So when Nick very clearly does not kiss him back, it’s obvious enough to Louis that he drops his hands and steps back, feeling mortification flood through him, followed by utter humiliation when he sees Nick’s shocked expression.

He’s about to apologise, albeit sulkily, when Nick’s hand curls around his wrist and gives it a solid yank, forcing Louis forward and somehow settling between Nick’s legs. Their second kiss is completely different, possibly because this time Nick’s actually kissing him back, which is awesome and so much better than Nick _not_ kissing him back, or maybe because Nick kisses slowly and thoroughly, not letting Louis take control and leaving him shaking a little as he clutches at Nick’s stupid shoulders while Nick just carefully and systematically _destroys_ him.

When Nick finally eases up, pulling back just far enough that he can look at Louis, Louis wants to look away because Nick’s gaze is searching and curious and Louis isn’t comfortable with that level of intensity.

“So is this a one-time thing then?” Nick asks carefully, his thumb stroking across Louis’ jawline while his other hand anchors firmly on his waist, not letting go for a second. “Or like, a phase maybe?”

Louis wonders briefly if he should be annoyed, or upset. But Nick looks pretty focused on his answer, like it really matters, and Louis relaxes into Nick’s body, letting Nick take some of his weight because he really is an obnoxious brat sometimes. “So I guess Harry did keep one of my secrets then,” he says, leaning in to press his lips against Nick’s, trying for something softer this time.

Nick’s hands bunch around his hoodie, gripping hard as he kisses Louis back before his hands slip under, finding warm skin and making Louis arch up into him helplessly.

It’s not really Louis’ fault if he ends up shirtless in his kitchen, since Nick’s the one who stripped off his hoodie and the t-shirt he was wearing underneath, so when Nick protests as Louis starts unbuttoning his shirt, Louis just ignores him.

Louis is working on Nick’s jeans while he leans forward and licks Nick’s nipple, just to see what he does. As it turns out, Nick likes it, since he groans a little and bows up into Louis’ touch. It doesn’t take long for Louis to shove Nick’s jeans down, laughing as Nick kicks them off in a fluster and then he gets to feel Nick’s hands on his thighs as he tugs Louis’ joggers down. He’s not embarrassed at the way his dick is straining against his boxers, or at the wet spot that Nick decides to mouth at through the black cotton.

Coming in Nick’s eager and clever mouth with his hand buried in Nick’s stupid hair is possibly the most mindblowing and mindfucking moment of his entire life, which is definitely saying something.

Although a close second is the feel of Nick’s come in his hand, while Nick’s head rests on his shoulder where he’s sat on the counter – not because he’s short or anything, it’s just Nick’s a fucking tall giant and the angle was easier – breathing heavily and mouthing at his chest. Louis wipes his hand clean on a kitchen towel and pets Nick’s hair while he waits for Nick to come back to earth.

“Oh god this is so unhygienic,” Nick mutters after a few minutes have passed, lifting his head and tugging his boxers back up with a wince.

“Oh get over yourself, Nick,” Louis says cheerfully. “I didn’t see you complaining when you came all over the counter.”

Nick looks down at said counter where Louis’ sitting, his bare arse on the worktop because he’s fucking shameless sometimes, especially when he’s just had his dick in someone’s mouth. “True,” he murmurs, leaning in for another kiss.

“So, are you cheered up then?” Louis asks cheekily when Nick pulls back, his hands resting lightly on Louis’ thighs where they’re spread wide enough to fit Nick between them. “After my fucking fantastic commiseration handjob?”

“Oh, is that what that was?” Nick says, arching an eyebrow. “What do I get then if my act gets through to next week?”

Louis smirks, very deliberately - and very slowly - licking his lips.

Nick groans and tips Louis’ head up for another kiss, sliding his tongue into Louis’ mouth and fucking into it until Louis’ breathless and clinging to Nick’s neck.

“And what about if I win?” Nick breathes against his lips.

Louis laughs and kisses him again, softer this time until Nick’s pliant in his arms and his fingertips are pressing into Louis' hips, urging him forward on the counter. Louis bites at his bottom lip, making Nick swear and dig his fingertips in a little harder, and then, Louis figures gleefully, then it’s fucking war.


End file.
